


Winchester (Water) Guns

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autumn, Back to School, Gen, SPN Short Stories, Seasons, Weechesters, protective!Dean, sam's starting kindergarten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 13:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13765437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: He’s been running ideas through his head for weeks. They can’t have weapons in school. At least, not that anyone can know about or that they can get caught with.





	Winchester (Water) Guns

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Seasons, a Supernatural fan fiction anthology (which is sending it’s proceeds to IMAlive and AO3). 100 writers are writing approximately 1200 words each, gen fic, divided into the four seasons of the year. My season was Autumn. 
> 
> You can learn more about Seasons here: [SPN Short Stories](http://spnshortstories.tumblr.com/)

His little brother is a dork. The cutest dork ever, but yeah.  And a nerd, he’s obviously gonna be a giant nerd.  Dean sighs and trails behind his dad and Sammy, who is already trying to skip off to choose a new backpack. He’s never seen him so excited before. 

They’re back to school shopping at the local Kmart the weekend before Labor Day.  Kindergarten for Sammy starts on Tuesday, and so does Dean’s personal hell.

School itself was bad enough to think about when it was just himself but now, Sammy’s gonna be there too.  And Dean will be on the other side of the school, entirely too far away in case something happens.  At almost ten years old, Dean knows, something _always_ happens.  The world is not a safe place, and that’s not even including people.

He’s been running ideas through his head for weeks.  They can’t have weapons in school.  At least, not that anyone can know about or that they can get caught with.  Sammy’s not picked up on being quiet about certain things – plus he doesn’t know the creepy scary stuff Dean knows, not yet.  So that rules out a knife like the one Dean carries that Dad gave him a couple years ago. Still, there has to be a way, somehow.  Sam needs protection, but he can’t know why.

He looks over to where Sam is holding a backpack in each hand, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Hot Wheels.  _Go for the cars little brother,_ he silently urges. Of course, Sam spots something else and all bets are off.  Oliver  & Company wins out.  They haven’t even _seen_ that movie yet, but they’ve seen the trailers and if it’s about dogs, it’s about Sam.  Dean’s sure that nails the Halloween costume choice as well even though that’s still far enough out for Sammy to change his mind.  _Dork._

Dean picks up the discarded Hot Wheels pack for himself, tossing it into their cart.  Sam is completely dazed by all the notebook and pencil case choices, and while Dad tries to be patient with a kid bounding up and down each aisle in wonder, Dean slips off to look at toys. 

As he looks at the end row displays of G.I. Joe action figures and Micro Machines, he snickers at the bright pink boxes of Feelin’ Fun Barbie.  ‘ _Her denim look is totally now!’_ He wanders down through the games section and stops when he hits the clearance bins.  Dean thinks maybe getting something cool to play with would be a nice way to spend these last couple days before kicking off Sammy’s likely new favorite thing – school.

Digging through the assorted mark downs of toys and games, he pulls out a battered Guess Who game box.  He knows Sammy would love it, but it’s not exactly what he’s going for.  He rummages a bit further when his eyes light upon a pack of water guns. 

They’re not fancy, not like the new Power Drenchers.  Just plain, cheap, fill with water and spray small squirt guns. 

_Small_.  They’re small.  And…portable.  They’re _perfect!_   Dean’s face lights up as the idea hits him, and he knows what he and Sammy will be doing this weekend. 

Carrying the clamshell package in one hand, he heads back to where Sam is seriously deciding between packs of crayons.

“Gotta go with Crayola Sammy, the big box – it’s got a built in sharpener!”  Dean grins and ruffles the tousled mop of chestnut hair atop his little brother’s head.  Sam smiles at him, his chubby cheeks dimpling, as Dean tosses the water guns into the basket.  “Whatcha got Dean?” 

John raises an eyebrow at his oldest boy, who shrugs nonchalantly.  “Gotta have some fun before school, ok dad?”  Dean leans over and plucks the large Crayola box from the shelf, gently adding it to the cart so the crayons don’t break.  “Just water guns, Sammy.  We’re gonna have a blast this weekend!” 

As they finish up and head back to their motel apartment, Dean’s mind races with the knowledge that he finally figured it out. 

Convincing Sam to play cops & robbers that afternoon is easy; he always lights up when Dean wants to play with him.  Dean’s already got the guns filled with water and they’ve both donned swimming trunks and tank tops.  When John had caught Dean salting and blessing a large pitcher of water with a rosary, he’d only asked if Dean knew what he was doing.  With a soft but firm _‘yes sir’_ he’d continued on his way, his dad thoughtfully watching him the whole time.

Hours fly by as the boys run around the open field behind the motel.  There’s not many places to duck and cover, just some rusted cars and worn out appliances.  It’s similar to Uncle Bobby’s place and Dean deems it safe enough for them to play after checking it out.  When they’re done, they’re both exhausted, breathless and soaked head to toe.  What dust and dirt had tried to cling runs down in rivulets along suntanned limbs and Sam’s bright smile could power the sun. 

Dean’s plan is working.  Tomorrow he will teach Sam how to shoot and hit targets, now that he’s got the feel of using the water gun.  He lets Sam rest while he wanders a bit to gather some cans and bottles for the next day’s fun. As he makes his way back, he catches their dad watching from the corner of the building and gives a silent nod.

Unloading his collected armful of goods into a somewhat broken crate next to an old washing machine, Dean plunks down next to Sam on the gravel path leading to the field.  “How about we go get cleaned up, little brother?  We can use Mr. Bubble in the tub.”  Sam grins, then shoots up and runs towards the motel, eager to play in the foamy bath.  Dean follows a bit more slowly, stopping when he reaches his dad.

“You teaching Sammy how to shoot?”  John’s voice is somber, a grave look on his face.

Dean watches dark brown eyes, looking for any hint of anger.  Finding none, he nods his head, biting his lip.

“Little young still.  Just water guns, right?”   

“Yes sir.”  Dean doesn’t understand.  He’d learned how to shoot a real gun when he was six, almost seven years old.  Sam’s a little younger than that now, but he won’t stay immune to the world of horror they really live in forever.  Dean’s sure gonna try like hell to keep it that way though.

“Can I ask why, Dean?”  John’s voice hitches, and Dean can tell his dad’s trying not to cry.

“’Cause of school, dad.  Sammy needs something for protection and this way he won’t have to carry a real weapon but will still be safe with salted holy water.  I’m gonna scratch some sigils into the guns, too.”  Dean can’t meet John’s eyes, afraid of what he might find there.

A large warm hand chucks under his chin, and when Dean looks up to his dad he sees tears slipping down his grizzled face.

“Good job son.  You’re watching out for Sammy.”


End file.
